


The Daemon In Me

by beir, MagicaDraconia16, Ookamikuro



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Art, Cryofreeze (Marvel), Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Winteriron Bang 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25592332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beir/pseuds/beir, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaDraconia16/pseuds/MagicaDraconia16, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ookamikuro/pseuds/Ookamikuro
Summary: Tony Stark is, as far as he knows, the only person who can see daemons, a manifestation of a person’s soul that, naturally, shares their Mark.Several years after his parents’ deaths, Obadiah Stane arrives to inform him that Howard had arranged a marriage for him, and it’s time to meet his prospective husband. There’s just one tiny hitch.The groom doesn’t have the same Mark as his daemon.
Relationships: Jarvis (Iron Man movies) & Tony Stark, Obadiah Stane & Tony Stark, Pre-James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark - Relationship
Comments: 14
Kudos: 327
Collections: Marvel, Winteriron Bang





	The Daemon In Me

**Author's Note:**

> Presenting my work for the Winteriron Big Bang 2020. I had the privilege to have my work chosen by two wonderful artists, who were very patient with me when I got delayed. Thank you both, it's been a pleasure to work with you!
> 
> Their art is on tumblr as well - beir's [here](https://beir.tumblr.com/) and Ookamikuro's [here](https://ookamikuro-art.tumblr.com/) \- if you want to go give it some separate love. 
> 
> For reference, Gal is a [golden mongoose](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/0c/Galerella_sanguinea_Zoo_Praha_2011-2.jpg) and Maisie is a [binturong](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a7/Binturong_in_Overloon.jpg).

Anthony Edward Stark was a certified genius, so it wouldn’t have surprised anyone to learn that he was only four years old when he discovered that nobody else could see the animals like he could.

Well, perhaps _animals_ was the wrong word, because the creatures seemed able to change into any form – mammal, reptile, bird, insect or arachnid – and, especially in young children, did so constantly, although they always seemed to have a form that they preferred to be in much more than any other. Anthony’s companion, for instance, spent most of its time in the shape of a golden-yellow Galerella sanguinea, or slender mongoose.

 _We are daemons_ , it told him one night, when they were curled up together underneath Anthony’s bed, hoping that a drunken, raging Howard Stark wouldn’t find them. _We are the manifestation of your soul._

“Is that why you have the same Mark that I do?” Anthony whispered back. He gently touched the circular spiral that decorated the back of his left hand. A similar mark ruffled the fur on his companion’s left leg.

 _Yes._ The mongoose touched its nose to Anthony’s mark. _This is our symbol. It’s the only way most humans know who their Match is._ It suddenly looked sad. _It’s the only way humans will allow us to guide them._

Anthony tucked it in tighter against himself. “You guide me,” he told it, comfortingly. “I’ll always listen to you.”

* * *

_Anthony Edward Stark, why aren’t you listening to me?_ Gal demanded, its’ butterfly shape flitting around the boy’s head. _You know your father doesn’t allow you in his lab!_

“He won’t know,” Anthony said, with the blithe confidence of a six-year-old child. “I’m almost done with the circuit board, Gal; I just need one more bit of solder wire—”

 _And that’s another thing you should listen to me about,_ the daemon continued. _You are much too young to be using solder! How many times has Jarvis told you that hot things are not for little boys to handle!_

“’m not _little_!” Anthony protested, scowling fiercely up at the butterfly circling his head. “’m _six_!”

 _It won’t matter how old you are or aren’t if your father catches you where you shouldn’t be,_ said Gal. _The least you should do is wait until he’s out of the house…_

As if on cue, there came the sound of footsteps heading in their direction. With a squeak of alarm – no matter what he said, Anthony was well aware that his father would _not_ appreciate finding him in his own personal workshop – the boy glanced around and then dove for the nearest open door.

Unfortunately, it just so happened to be the door to Howard’s study.

Anthony’s eyes widened with alarm as he registered where he’d ended up. The footsteps were drawing nearer, and there was no time to duck back out again and try to find a better, safer hiding place.

Gal swirled through the air in front of his face. _Quick, in that cupboard,_ the daemon instructed, pointing a wing in the direction it meant. Anthony scurried across the room and hurtled himself into the cupboard, barely remembering not to bang the door behind himself as he went. He crouched in a far corner, hands clamped over his nose and mouth in an attempt to stifle his heavy panting. Gal settled into his hair, wings and antennae twitching. 

“—marry Anthony off to?” a voice asked as the footsteps entered the room. Anthony had no idea who it belonged to.

“I’ve got several candidates in mind,” his father answered. He moved closer to the cupboard, and Anthony pressed his hands harder against his face, desperate not to make a sound. It would be beyond bad for him if his father discovered him here now. “Pierce, maybe. Or the Winter Soldier.”

There was a pause, and then, “The _Winter Soldier_?!” the other voice repeated, incredulously. “I know you don’t like the boy, Howard—”

“Like has nothing to do with it,” Howard interrupted. “The Soldier has contacts throughout the entirety of Brooklyn; nothing goes through without him knowing about it. This contract will strengthen ties between him and Manhattan, giving both of us more stability and power, and will also allow me to get rid of the little freak.”

Tears began to well up in Anthony’s eyes. He’d always known that Howard wasn’t fond of him – the heavy hand and drunken rages were proof of that – but he’d at least thought he was worth _something_ as Howard’s son. Gal fluttered its wings in Anthony’s hair, trying to comfort, then shifted into its usual mongoose form, sliding down to curl around the boy’s neck in an approximation of a hug.

“What if his mother objects?” the second voice asked.

“Eh.” Howard made a dismissive noise. “She takes so many of those goddamn pills that she’d never notice if he was married off right in front of her. Wouldn’t make much difference if she did, since she was the one who gave me a defective son.”

Gal gave a sharp hiss and bared its teeth as though it’d like to spring out and bite Howard. 

There came the sound of shuffling papers, and then Howard gave a triumphant, “Ah-ha!” Apparently he’d found whatever they’d come into the study for, as moments later the door slammed shut behind them.

Anthony found that he couldn’t move, not even when Gal finally poked its nose out of the cupboard and hissed the all clear. It was . . . shock, his mind told him. The knowledge that his father absolutely _hated_ him and was eager to see him gone, to live his life as though he didn’t have a son at all...

 _Anthony. Tony,_ Gal crooned at him, tiny paws clinging to his shirt as it nuzzled up under his jaw. _We should get out of here. Go and see Jarvis in the kitchen, hmm? He might make some of his hot chocolate for us, if we’re lucky._

“Chocolate,” Anthony murmured, the sound hidden behind his hands. His gaze dropped to rest on Gal. That was what his father had meant by ‘freak’ – the way Anthony spoke to something that nobody else could see. It had been posited at one point that Anthony just had an extremely vivid imagination, as all young, intelligent children did, and that his imaginary friend would fade away as he grew older. Obviously, of course, Gal wasn’t _really_ imaginary, and hadn’t faded, but Anthony couldn’t explain that without making himself sound like even more of a freak.

Some of what he was thinking must have transmitted itself to Gal, as the daemon drooped. _I know,_ it said, miserably. _We can talk about it later tonight. But for now, please, Anthony, we have to get out of here._

Slowly lowering his hands from his mouth, Anthony shuffled himself towards the cupboard door. He was vaguely aware that Gal was right; if Howard came back now and caught them here, realised that they’d – _he’d_ – been hidden in the room before… Well, the chances of Anthony being able to be married off to _anyone_ dropped alarmingly.

 _That’s it,_ said Gal, encouragingly. _Come on, Howard’s gone now. We don’t need to head for the kitchen, but we do need to be away from here._

The journey passed in a blur of the daemon’s murmured instructions. When Anthony came back to himself, they were huddled up together underneath his bed. They hadn’t done that since he was four.

Gal nuzzled his cheek. _Are you back with me now?_ it asked.

“Yes.” Anthony tightened his arms around Gal, then loosened them again. “Gal, I shouldn’t talk to you ‘ny more.”

The daemon slumped again. _I hate the way humans always see different as **wrong** ,_ it grumbled. _It shouldn’t matter what others think, Anthony, as long as **you** want to talk to me._

“But it makes things harder,” Anthony whispered.

 _Yes, it does,_ Gal admitted. It was silent for a moment. _I’m not able to hide myself completely from you,_ it said, finally, _but I can . . . hide daemons from your view. You would still see us, still hear **me** – but it would make it easier for you to ignore us if you wanted to._

Anthony contemplated this. He was a genius, but he was still only a little boy, and his thoughts hooked themselves on one thing. “You think Howard will love me again if I stop talking to you?” he asked.

Gal hesitated. It couldn’t lie to its boy – it didn’t think that Howard Stark would _ever_ love his son now that he’d dismissed him as ‘defective’ – but equally it couldn’t tear down the boy’s spirit, either. _It’s . . . possible,_ it said. Extremely unlikely, but always possible.

“Then do it.” Anthony squared his little shoulders and tilted his chin, trying to look his bravest, but his lip quivered.

Gal nuzzled at him, giving him one last mongoose kiss, then closed its eyes in concentration. The solid feeling of it against Anthony faded away, and the boy watched in horrified fascination as the daemon slowly became see-through.

 _It is done,_ the daemon announced, opening its eyes again. Its voice sounded faint and echo-y, as though coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

“Thank you, Gal,” Anthony whispered, and then scrambled from underneath the bed. Howard would _have_ to like him now!

* * *

“Tony, my boy!”

Tony imperceptibly winced as Obadiah Stane’s heavy hand clamped down firmly on his shoulder and squeezed, the transparent snake around his wrist leaning down to sink its fangs in, too. Gal bounced over from the other shoulder, chittering angrily, and the snake reared back and hissed.

Tony ignored the byplay.

“Hi, Obie,” he said instead. “What’re you doing here? Not trying to drag me to another board meeting, I hope.”

Obadiah gave his great, booming laugh and shook his head, his grip on Tony’s shoulder tightening even more before he let go. “What, I can’t come and see you on your birthday?” he asked.

“Birthday?” Tony blinked at him, then glanced around for the nearest calendar. They were in his office at Stark Industries; why wasn’t there a calendar anywhere? Oh, right, that’s what he had JARVIS for. “It’s not my birthday. Is it?” 

“Maybe not, but it might as well be, considering you’re meeting your new husband today!” Obadiah enthused. He beamed at Tony. “I’ve known the man for years; you’re gonna be a lucky man!”

Wha… _husband_?! Tony gaped at Obadiah, his brain all but shorted out. He was shocked enough that when Gal gasped and murmured, _Oh no!_ , he almost turned to look at the mongoose. It was only another of Obadiah’s booming chuckles that stopped him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?” Obadiah shook his head again. “Tony, Tony, Tony. This has been arranged since you were little. I know you know that!”

Tony frowned, but before he could pull himself together enough to demand more answers – better ones – from Obadiah, the man was heading towards the office door. Opening it, he spoke briefly to someone outside and then stood back to let them in.

“Tony, this is James Barnes,” Obadiah began to say, but Tony’s higher brain functions had, once again, ground to a halt as Gal began to growl.

At first glance, the man entering the office seemed normal enough. He was tall and muscled, with brown hair that fell past his shoulders and blue-grey eyes, with a circular spiral on his cheek and a transparent fox slinking along the ground behind his heel. That part wasn’t the issue.

The fox, however, had a set of three interlinked squares running down its left flank.

 _That_ was the issue.

After Gal had hidden the daemons from him when he was six, Tony had done his best to ignore each and every one of them he could see, but he’d still been observant. As Gal had informed him so long ago, the daemons were manifestations of people’s souls. Which meant they shared the Marks that their . . . owner? Partner? Whatever . . . had on their bodies, and they never went far away from their human, either. It was physically impossible for them to do so.

So why wasn’t this man’s Mark the same as the fox’s?

“—nice to finally meet you,” the other man’s voice broke through the mental fog, and Tony realised that he’d apparently carried on the conversation through his shock and was now shaking the stranger’s hand.

“Likewise,” he murmured, and dropped the handshake as quickly as he could get away with. He barely resisted the urge to wipe his hand down his trouser leg. The man’s grip felt slimy, despite the fact his actual hand had been warm and dry, if a bit rough. He forced a smile at Barnes. “I’m afraid I have a very important meeting with my PA in a few minutes—” It was a titanic struggle, but he managed to ignore the nudge and wink from Obadiah. “—so how about we meet up somewhere tonight so we can talk things over a bit more?”

After that, Tony stopped listening. He didn’t care where or when they met, and JARVIS would tell him later. Once Obadiah shut the door behind the pair of them, still grinning at Tony, Tony sank into his chair and for the first time in decades turned his full attention onto Gal.

The mongoose slithered down his arm to the desk, where it sat on its haunches and stared at him. _Something is very wrong,_ it said.

“You,” Tony began, accusingly, “obviously know more about all of this than I do. So why does Obie think that I’m going to be getting married?”

Gal sighed and shuffled its front paws. _When you were six,_ it said, _you accidentally discovered that Howard was making plans to marry you off to secure ties in Brooklyn. Mostly because of the fact that you spoke to me, all the time. He made it very clear that he… was unhappy with you. You believed that if you didn’t speak to me, then he’d change his mind about you. And the marriage, presumably, although I don’t think you really considered that at that age._

Tony scoffed, bitterly. “Yeah, great plan,” he muttered. “One that obviously didn’t work since Howard, well, was Howard.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck. “So my next question is, why did Barnes’ Mark not match his fox’s?”

 _For the simple reason,_ said Gal, _that ‘Barnes’ is not actually James Barnes at all._

* * *

Of course, just because he knew what was happening didn’t mean that Tony had the faintest idea of how to fix it.

“There are several million people in Manhattan alone, never mind Brooklyn,” he complained to Gal. “How the hell am I supposed to find _one_ man amongst them?”

_I’m sure you’ll think of something._

Tony scowled at the mongoose, now curled up in the middle of his desk. Something had caused the daemon to go into a huff, and he had no idea what.

He seemed to have no idea about a lot of things lately.

Groaning, he scrubbed a hand down his face. And then . . . an idea!

“JARVIS!” he exclaimed, and leapt to his feet. Gal peered up at him from the corner of one eye, but Tony ignored it. “JARVIS, take a still from when Obie and that guy were in here and start running facial recognition programmes. Concentrate on Brooklyn but widen the net if necessary. Barnes might not even live in Brooklyn anymore.”

“Of course, sir,” said his AI.

Gal sat up, its’ interest piqued again. _You realise that if the person brought here today looks like Barnes then your programmes are more likely to find **him** than the actual Barnes,_ it said.

Tony grimaced at it. “Yes, genius over here, so I did think of that, thank you very much,” he groused. “That’s why I told JARVIS to widen the net. And JARVIS, check CCTV cameras for, let’s say, the last couple of months, too.”

“Yes, sir,” said the AI, with a sound that was very reminiscent of a rueful sigh.

Tony squinted at the nearest camera. “Don’t you sass me as if it’s a huge job for you,” he said. “I know I built you better than that.”

“Of course, sir! My apologies!” the AI responded, in such a sugary-sweet chipper tone that Tony almost felt his teeth begin to rot.

 _And what are you going to do about the impostor in the meantime?_ Gal wanted to know.

Tony hesitated. “I don’t think there’s much I _can_ do right now,” he admitted, finally. “Not until we’ve found the real Barnes. I can probably stall for a bit under the guise of looking through Howard’s paperwork – Obie’ll probably expect me to look for a loophole – but this was Howard; it’s going to be airtight.”

The mongoose tilted its head so that it managed to look down its nose at him. _I meant,_ it snapped at him, _what are you going to do about the fact that **somebody** knew what Howard arranged all those years ago **and** went to the trouble of creating a fake Barnes. _

“Oh.” Tony groped for his chair and sank into it again. That aspect hadn’t occurred to him yet; he’d been too wrapped up in the puzzle over the real Barnes’ whereabouts. But Gal had a point. _Someone_ had to know that Howard had wanted, and planned, to marry Tony off, and who to. And if there was someone here claiming to _be_ Barnes when they obviously weren’t . . . well, good intentions never started out with deliberate actions like that.

Some genius he was!

JARVIS made a throat-clearing sound. “Sir, I believe I may have found footage of the pretend Mr Barnes,” he said. “He has spent a great deal of time over the past few weeks in a warehouse district on the far side of Brooklyn, near the ocean. So far, I have not found any sign of Mr Barnes initially _entering_ the warehouse.”

Well, that didn’t sound good. “Keep checking,” instructed Tony. He stood up again and scooped Gal off the desk. The mongoose squeaked as it was deposited on his shoulder. “If there’s anything I desperately need to know, ping my phone. In the meantime, I’ll head to . . . Hey, where _am_ I supposed to be heading to so I can meet this guy?”

JARVIS sighed. “You suggested one of the fanciest restaurants in town, sir,” he said. “Luckily, I was able to get a reservation for you.”

Tony clicked his tongue and pointed a finger gun at the nearest camera as he strode to the door. “Thanks, JARVIS, you’re a pal,” he said. Of course, when JARVIS said ‘get’, what he actually meant was ‘made one myself’. Eh, semantics.

 _What do you plan to do at this meeting with the pretend Barnes?_ wondered Gal, curling its tail around Tony’s neck. He shivered at the phantom feel of fur against his skin. He hadn’t felt it that much in years. Was it because he was paying attention to the daemon again?

“I plan to talk rings around him, and see if he lets anything slip,” he told the mongoose.

 _You think he hasn’t been coached against exactly that?_ Gal sounded doubtful.

Tony reached up and flicked its nose as he exited the office. A passing secretary gave him a sideways glance, and he hastily turned it into brushing something off his suit. “I think I can do it anyway,” he said _sotto voce_ as JARVIS opened the elevator doors for him. “After all, I’m Tony fucking Stark.”

* * *

Tony fucking Stark had got nothing out of the man. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Nadrino. Wait, was that even a word? Tony was so annoyed he didn’t even know anymore.

JARVIS had given him a brief potted history of the real Barnes on his way to the restaurant, and everything the fake Barnes had said to him matched up. _Everything_. It was actually a little spooky – and unrealistic, considering that most of it had come from various newspaper stories. Almost as if someone had given him the same potted history Tony had received and told him to study it carefully.

“Someone’s been preparing for this for a long time,” he complained when he finally managed to shake the other man off and return home. He double-checked the security system and then made his way through the house to his workshop. “Not a single thing that contradicted what we have.”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but are you actually certain he really _isn’t_ the true Mr Barnes?” asked JARVIS, hesitantly.

Tony came to a halt. “JARVIS, _you_ were the one who said you couldn’t find any sign of him initially going into that warehouse,” he pointed out. “But yes, even on the _very_ rare chance that he slipped past all the available cameras somehow, yes, I’m certain the man in my office today is a fraud.”

JARVIS hummed. “In that case then, sir, I believe I may have something that will interest you,” he said.

“Bring it on screen in the workshop,” ordered Tony, setting off again. The blue holographic screen was waiting when he came through the door, a CCTV video already cued up. Tony settled himself onto the nearest stool. “Alright, J, what am I watching?” he asked.

“Well, sir, once I had determined that there really wasn’t any sign of Mr Barnes entering the warehouse, I adjusted the parameters of my search so that I was looking for his _body type_ , rather than just his face. And once I did that, then I found this…”

The video began playing before Tony could ask any questions. It was surprisingly good quality for a CCTV camera in an industrial area, and he vaguely wondered if JARVIS had cleaned it up for him first, but then his attention was drawn back to the events playing out.

A ubiquitous white van had just backed itself up to the warehouse but hadn’t quite been able to reach the doors, so the back door of the van was in plain view of the camera as the van halted. Two men came out of the warehouse and were joined by the van’s driver, who opened the back door and disappeared inside. Seconds later, the edge of a wheeled stretcher came into view, the legs elongating and dropping as the wheels cleared the edge of the van.

Tony raised his eyebrows. It looked for all the world as though the three men had a _corpse_ on that stretcher. It was certainly man-shaped, and covered by a cloth, but the material hadn’t been drawn quite high enough, and stringy-looking dark brown hair was just about visible as they wheeled the stretcher into the warehouse.

The clincher, though, was the see-through fox that was trotting after one of the men who’d come from the warehouse.

“Rewind it, J, about ten seconds,” Tony requested, and leant forward as JARVIS did so. “And pause! There!” He stabbed a triumphant finger at the screen. The video had paused just as the fox turned to follow the man back in, and clearly visible on its flank were the three interlocking squares that he’d seen in his office earlier that day. “That’s him! JARVIS, run facial recognition on _him_.”

“One moment, sir,” said the AI.

Tony took the moment to glance down at Gal, who’d slithered down to sit on his knee whilst the video played. “Do you think the real Barnes is dead?” he murmured. He wasn’t sure what to think himself. He didn’t _know_ Barnes, so it wasn’t like he’d mourn for the man if he were actually dead, but on the other hand, if those men had killed Barnes just for the opportunity to get at _Tony_ …

Well, the man didn’t deserve that.

 _No_ , said Gal, twitching his nose. _His daemon was beside his knees under the sheet. It wouldn’t still be here if its human was dead._

“Wait,” said Tony, instantly distracted, “you mean that when we die, daemons die too?”

 _Where did you think we go?_ Gal asked, amused. _We’re the manifestation of your **soul** , Anthony. We can’t survive without you._

“I—” hadn’t really thought about it, Tony didn’t say. He hadn’t thought about his parents’ daemons at all after his parents had died, but somehow, in some incredibly vague place deep inside, he’d imagined the daemons had . . . well, he didn’t know. Maybe attached themselves to another soul that had just been born? Was that even how daemons worked? How did they come into being? And how had he never asked these types of questions before?!

 _Because you were only six years old when we last fully interacted,_ said Gal, apparently reading his mind. Or his soul. Whatever. _That is not the age when people wonder ‘where did we come from and what comes next?’._

“I believe I have him, sir,” said JARVIS, and Tony thankfully shoved the impending existential crisis into the deepest, darkest hole his brain had. “The man from the warehouse matches with the records of a man named Brock Rumlow. Rumlow has been involved in various types of petty crimes since he was a young boy, and it seems he grew up in the same neighbourhood as Obadiah Stane.”

“Really?” Tony frowned at the records that were beginning to scroll across the screen. Obadiah had always given the impression that he’d grown up as very upper middle-class, but Rumlow didn’t seem like that kind of person.

Gal abruptly wrapped itself around one of Tony’s hands. _Tony,_ it said, sadly. _If this pretend Barnes grew up with Obadiah, then that makes it very likely that Obadiah had something to do with it._

Now Tony frowned down at Gal. “What? No, it doesn’t,” he protested. “I mean, sure, I’ve never liked that snake of his, and the feeling’s obviously mutual, but—”

 _How else would this Rumlow know about the arranged marriage?_ Gal pointed out. _And who it was arranged **to**? Howard hadn’t finalised anything yet when he and Maria died, only those close enough to see your father’s paperwork would know._

Tony’s heart sank. Gal had a point. _Tony_ hadn’t known about the marriage until Obadiah had brought ‘Barnes’ in to meet him, and he’d been through all of Howard’s paperwork. Or at least, he’d _thought_ he’d been through it all. It was looking as though Obadiah had gotten there first, maybe in the first few days – and weeks, and months – when Tony had thrown himself into a whirlwind of drink and drugs to try and forget his grief and his anger.

“Then why wait so long?” he managed to get out, lips and tongue and everything else beginning to go numb. “Howard died _years_ ago, why wait until now?”

 _I don’t know._ Gal shook its head. _What plans for the company have you got in the pipeline?_

“You think this is about SI?” Tony blinked for a moment, and then his brain kicked into gear once more. “Of course it is,” he realised in disgust. “If Obie succeeds in getting me married off, then no doubt the company will pass out of my hands and directly into _his_. Or, if he succeeded in convincing me this other man was Barnes and we got married, then he’d have control of SI through _him_ instead.”

“I believe the more pertinent question, sir,” JARVIS interrupted, “is what are you going to do now that you know who he really is?”

Tapping the fingers of his free hand on the work bench beside him, Tony frowned in thought. “That’s a good question, J,” he said. “I think—” His mind raced, calculating the probabilities of each action “—that first of all, we need to see if we can rescue, or even _find_ , the real Barnes. We need to get him to safety first, because if we go straight for Rumlow, then he could get away or get a message out, and Barnes could be killed.”

“You could always inform the police of the matter,” said JARVIS, but with the kind of resignation that meant he knew full well Tony wouldn’t do it.

“And again, risk the real Barnes getting injured or killed?” Tony shook his head. “No. Maybe – and I stress, _maybe_ – later once we’ve got him, but not until he’s safe.”

 _And just how **are** you going to find him?_ Gal asked.

Tony gently shook his hand to get Gal to let go of it and then stood. “We’re going to start at the place where we know he was last,” he informed the room. “We start with the warehouse.”

* * *

The warehouse was in an area that was very unsuitable for sneaking around in. Not because it didn’t have plenty of cover, but because everything seemed to either creak or scrape or make _some_ kind of noise that sounded, at least to Tony, like it echoed horribly loudly around the entire area. It didn’t help that Gal went prancing merrily along in front of him, blithely unconcerned about anyone seeing it or making any noise.

“You are the _worst_ ,” Tony hissed at it when he finally caught up with it just outside the warehouse’s neighbouring building.

Gal sniffed, and if ever a mongoose looked smug, Gal was it. _It’s not my fault that you humans can’t see us anymore,_ it said.

Tony mimed strangling it, and then peered around the corner of the building. Nothing seemed out of place, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t invisible security somewhere that was linked to a whole bunch of people sitting pretty _inside_. He tapped his watch twice to signal JARVIS and waited impatiently while the AI did his thing. Finally, just when Tony was getting ready to say _the hell with it_ and burst in, a green light blinked into being on the watch.

“All clear, sir,” the AI added out loud. “I’m not detecting any heat signatures inside the warehouse at all.”

God, he hoped this hadn’t been a wild goose chase. “We could still find information,” he pointed out. “Might get another lead, if we do.”

JARVIS sighed. “Very well, sir,” he said. “Then might I suggest the window at the furthest right-hand corner…?” A helpful little arrow blinked into being on the watch face. Almost, Tony thought indignantly, as though the AI didn’t believe he knew his left from his right.

Mentally making a note that he should donate JARVIS to the nearest McDonald’s as soon as this was over, he carefully slid around the building’s corner and headed for the entry point that JARVIS had found.

The window looked barely big enough to allow him to squeeze through, but it hadn’t been shut all the way, so at least Tony wouldn’t draw attention to himself by literally breaking before entering. Once he’d managed to pull it out, he hauled himself up.

“Note to self,” he wheezed as he finally managed to slump across the windowsill, “do more pull-ups at the gym.”

“Noted, sir,” JARVIS said, just as Gal scampered its way across Tony’s back and used his head as a springboard. Tony grunted in protest and slithered the rest of the way off the frame and into the warehouse.

The warehouse obviously hadn’t been used for quite some time, as it was large, dusty, and empty. Tony could see, here and there, where crates and boxes had been placed, but they’d either been removed or rotted away.

The building also didn’t seem to have any places that would hide a prisoner. Or a corpse. And Tony really wished he hadn’t thought of that, because now, for some reason, he _really_ wanted to find Barnes alive and rescue him.

 _It doesn’t look as though anyone’s here_ , said Gal, sitting on its haunches in the middle of the large room, its nose twitching.

“JARVIS, any hidden life signs?” asked Tony. It probably wasn’t necessary, but he held his arm up and spun in a slow circle to assist JARVIS in his scans. “Any hidden _anything_?”

His watch hummed for a moment as the AI searched. “No, sir,” he said, finally. “No hidden areas in this warehouse at all. I’m sorry, sir,” he added as Tony’s shoulders slumped. “I have already started searching through the CCTV cameras again.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Tony agreed. But he knew it was going to be a longshot. There just wasn’t any clue here that would help them determine where the men had taken Barnes. Sighing, he turned to the warehouse door. No point going back out through the window if he didn’t have to worry about giving away his presence.

_Anthony!_

Gal’s call came from behind him, near the back wall of the warehouse, and Tony spun to face him, vaguely alarmed. Was there someone here after all? Had they somehow managed to shield themselves from JARVIS’ attention?

The mongoose, however, was sniffing intently in a corner, stretched up the wall as high as it could reach on its hind legs.

 _There is something here,_ Gal informed him. _Something . . . cold._

“Cold?” Tony frowned and hurried over. “There shouldn’t be anything cold; this isn’t a refrigerated warehouse.”

 _I can feel it_ , said Gal, huffily. _This corner is noticeably colder than anywhere else in the warehouse, and yet there is no door, no window, no crack that could provide a draft. It is just… cold._

The daemon was right; as soon as Tony got within three steps of it, the temperature dropped. He frowned harder as he examined the immediate area around the corner. There had to be _some_ reason for the discrepancy. Random corners didn’t just become several degrees colder than the rest of the building. But aside from the fact this particular area was a lot cleaner and dust-free than the rest of the warehouse, there seemed to be no difference.

“Sir, I believe I may have found something,” JARVIS said. “Cameras show that, two days ago, a truck was parked outside of this warehouse for quite some time. During that period, the men seen entering the warehouse previously struggled to remove a very large box. One that appeared to be refrigerated, as it was trailing dry ice smoke.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Refrigerated?” he repeated, and glanced around the corner again.

“Yes, sir,” said JARVIS, “and not very well, at that. A truly sealed container should not have been leaking fumes the way this one was.”

“Well, Rumlow sounds like a two-bit thug, so it isn’t surprising that he wouldn’t have the best equipment. Were you able to track where the truck went once it was loaded?”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a long pause. Tony raised his eyebrows even higher at his watch. There was apparently something that JARVIS didn’t want to share with him, which meant it wasn’t going to be good news.

He braced himself. “Okay, J, hit me with it,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” said JARVIS, reluctantly. “The truck is currently parked in a garage located on Riverside Drive in Washington Heights. Mr Obadiah Stane’s home.”

* * *

Tony managed to make it back to the car – and getting out was a whole lot easier when he didn’t have to worry about anybody spotting him – but once in it, he told JARVIS to drive and then sat back and . . . did nothing.

Gal curled up on his lap, snuffling occasionally at the hand that was idly resting on it.

The very thought, some hours earlier, that Obadiah had to be involved in some way didn’t make it any less shocking to learn that, apparently, he was _very_ involved. Involved enough to have not just _told_ somebody about Howard’s plans, but to actively seek out a partner to then find this Barnes and _kidnap him_ so that somebody else could then take his place and pretend to be him.

No doubt Obadiah would laugh at him, scoff and say that he’d done nothing of the kind; that whatever had been taken from the warehouse had been some kind of actual freezer unit and had just been stored there until it could be transported.

Which . . . was actually plausible, except for the fact that the warehouse had been otherwise fairly obviously empty and unused for quite some time.

 _Anthony_ , Gal said softly, nosing at his hand again. _We’re home again._

Tony’s head jerked sideways to discover that yes, they were indeed home again. His hands were shaking as they fumbled with the seatbelt – very poor design, maybe he could invent a voice-activated one? – and he almost fell out of the car when he pushed the door open.

“Sir,” JARVIS began, sounding worried, as he stepped inside, but Tony waved an absent hand in the air.

“Not-not now, J,” he said, and headed straight back for his study and the fully stocked bar there.

It was probably not a good time to get roaring drunk – after all, Barnes was still out there, somewhere – but as far as Obadiah knew, Tony knew nothing more than that Howard had planned to marry him off. Obadiah would have no reason to suspect otherwise, and therefore Barnes – wherever he was – would hopefully be safe for another day. Not even that; just a few hours where Tony could try and forget the fact that his own _godfather_ was trying to rip his company out from underneath him.

 _Anthony!_ Gal cried out, loudly.

Just a few hours to get himself blissfully numb, and then Tony would get started on locating Barnes again. Which would no doubt involve a trip to Obie’s house, and require several other people to get involved so that he was somewhere _else_ whilst Tony went up there.

Just a few hours…

 _ANTHONY!_ Gal shrieked.

There was a sudden sharp pain in the back of his head, and everything winked out.

* * *

_—too stubborn for his own good,_ a high-pitched, fluting voice was saying as Tony floated vaguely back towards consciousness. _Yours any better?_

 _Oh, no; mine’s worse. And reckless, as well._ And that was Gal. Nice to know that his daemon was spreading tales of how good and kind and generous he was, Tony thought sarcastically. If they’d been open, he would have rolled his eyes. _Although I think he’s waking up,_ Gal continued. A small weight landed on Tony’s chest, and paws pressed themselves over his mouth. _Anthony? Don’t move, or try to answer me. Understand?_

Really, if he had to keep suppressing the urge to roll his eyes like this, he was going to seriously injure himself. Just how did it expect him to be able to acknowledge that he understood if he wasn’t allowed to move or make any noise?

Gal sighed. _I’m a manifestation of your **soul** ,_ it said, pointedly. Tony absently wondered if a mongoose could roll _its_ eyes, because if they could, he was fairly certain that Gal was doing so. _Anyway, now you’re awake… You were, unfortunately, kidnapped. I tried to warn you, but you weren’t listening to me._ Gal paused and shifted its weight further back onto its haunches. _I suppose I can give you **some** leeway,_ it continued, thoughtfully, _since you’d just discovered—_

—that Obie was actively trying to steal Stark Industries from him. Yeah, Tony remembered, although he wished he didn’t. He really, _really_ wanted to know where he was now, and what was happening around him. Presumably there was at least one person watching him, if Gal wanted him to pretend to be unconscious still.

 _Correct_ , said Gal, removing its paws. _It appears we tripped some alarm after all; Obadiah and Rumlow were waiting at your home for us. Rumlow smacked you in the head, and then they brought you here, to Obadiah’s house._

And, coincidentally, right where the refrigeration unit from the warehouse had been taken. Was it somewhere nearby? Gal might be able to go and look for it if it wasn’t too far away.

 _Your lucky stars are working overtime today,_ Gal said. _The unit is here, in the room with us. It’s Barnes._

Barnes? _What_ was Barnes? This keeping his eyes closed schtick was getting old. Tony wanted to see what his options were, see what information might be lying around just waiting for him to find, see how the hell he got out of this place.

There was a huff. _The **unit** is Barnes,_ snapped Gal. _It’s not a refrigerated unit; it’s a **cryostasis** unit. They’ve got Barnes stored in it. **That’s** why the corner of that warehouse was so cold. _

Really, if Gal kept this up, Tony was going to say to hell with whoever was watching over him and open his eyes anyway. Conveying the impression of an unimpressed glare was more difficult than it sounded.

 _Are you sure that thug didn’t hit him harder than you thought?_ the other voice asked.

Which really, _rude_!

 _Okay, they’ve gone_ , Gal said and the slight pressure of it disappeared from Tony’s chest. _You can open your eyes and get up now._

“Thank you very mu—ARGH!” Tony’s sarcastic sentence cut off into a screech, as he opened his eyes and came face to nose with a long, dark-furred snout that most _definitely_ did not belong to Gal.

Who was sitting beside him and snickering, the traitor.

“You are the _worst_!” Tony growled at it. He shuffled sideways out from under the creature and sat up to take a proper look at it. It looked… sort of like a badger, except it had no stripes, was altogether longer and thinner, and had a tail that was currently wrapping itself casually around one of his ankles.

The thing sat back on its haunches. _Hello,_ it said to him, _my name is Maisie. I belong to Bucky._

Tony shot a glance at Gal, who looked unconcerned. “Um, nice to meet you, er, Maisie,” he said. “I’m Tony. But, um… who is Bucky?”

The creature looked at Gal this time, but the mongoose looked just as confused as Tony felt. Its furry shoulders slumped in a sigh. _James Buchanan Barnes,_ it said, and tilted its head back to indicate further into the room behind them all. _His friend Steve called him Bucky when they were younger, and the name’s stuck. At least,_ it suddenly looked as sad as a cross between a badger and a cat can look, _it has with me. Everybody else calls him the Winter Soldier._

With the reminder, Tony finally took a look at where they were. It was a long room, but narrow, and not very well-lit. Tony had to squint to see anything at all at the other end. Not that there was very much _to_ see; Obie appeared to be using the room for storage.

Including the large cryo chamber containing one James Barnes.

“Is that thing even still on?” Tony wondered, pushing himself up onto his feet. JARVIS had said the CCTV showed it leaking, but this room wasn’t as cold as the warehouse corner had been.

Maisie’s head twitched. _Yes… and no,_ it said, and ducked its head to run a paw over its face.

“Great. Very helpful,” Tony complained. “Any chance of a more precise answer?”

The creature’s gaze met his again, and this time Tony’s hindbrain woke up and took notice. It began gibbering in terror as Maisie’s golden eyes stared unblinkingly at him.

God only knew how long the stand-off would have lasted – or what the outcome would have been – if Gal hadn’t made a growling noise and pounced on Maisie’s tail. The critter yowled like an angry cat and turned to swipe at Gal, who bounced nimbly away from it, scolding it in angry chitters.

Freed from his frozen state, Tony staggered backwards and would have collapsed back to the floor if he hadn’t found the wall first.

He still might end up on the floor, he realised, if his heart didn’t stop trying its best to slam its way out of his chest.

 _What on earth was that?_ he wondered. He didn’t remember having a reaction like _that_ to any of the big daemons he’d seen when he was younger, and he’d spent an entire hour talking to a big male lion once, when Jarvis – the human one that JARVIS was modelled after – had taken him to a nearby park for a bit of fresh air and “socialisation”.

 _Sorry, sorry, sorry!_ Maisie was chanting. It had dropped to the floor and was trying to bury its snout in its front paws. _I don’t know what came over me!_

Gal skipped across the room to nuzzle at Tony. It did make him feel a _little_ better, even if the sight of the mongoose’s nose ending up _inside_ his leg made him feel a bit nauseous.

“Just… give me a minute,” Tony got out. He was panting like a racehorse, clutching at his chest in an effort to calm his heart down. He closed his eyes and held his breath for a second, trying to get that under control first. His heartbeat wouldn’t slow until he was calmer, and feeling like he couldn’t breathe wasn’t helping.

It took longer than he would have liked, but eventually it didn’t feel as though shards of glass were stuck in his lungs. Tony opened his eyes again, careful to cast his gaze low enough that Gal was the first thing he saw.

 _You’re back,_ it said with relief.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, hoarsely. “Let’s not do that again, huh?”

 _No._ Gal cast a pointed look over its shoulder at Maisie.

 _I’m so sorry,_ Maisie said, again. _I don’t know what happened. I’ll… I’ll try not to do it again. Feel free to bite me if I do_ , it added to Gal.

“Barnes,” said Tony, interrupting before the two daemons could get into a circle of accusation and apology. “We were talking about Barnes and the cryo unit. You said it is on, but it isn’t. What does that mean?”

Maisie slowly sat upright, and curled its long tail carefully around its forepaws. The tail was almost long enough for the tip to end up back in front. _The chamber_ is _on_ , it said. _But it was damaged in transport to the warehouse and started leaking. By the time they got it here, all the… the fluid, the ice had gone. The unit is keeping Bucky alive, but it’s not freezing him anymore._

“He’s thawing out,” Tony realised. “He’s essentially rising up into a coma.” He frowned as the thought twisted over itself in his mind. “Hasn’t Obie or Rumlow realised yet?” he wondered out loud. “Surely it’s a bit hard to miss that their refrigerated unit isn’t so refrigerated anymore!”

 _They haven’t been in here with it since they put it in here_ , Maisie told him. _The closest they got was putting you in here, and they didn’t advance much past the door for that._

Tony managed to lever himself upright and edged around Maisie to reach the far end of the room, ensuring he kept a respectful distance between it and himself. The cryo chamber was a tall, off-white thing that, if it hadn’t had a small window near the top, would have looked like nothing so much as a normal fridge. He gingerly pressed a fingertip to it. It was very definitely cold, but not something that was likely to give him frostbite in twenty seconds.

He peered in through the window. He could still see the odd spot of frost clinging right to the very edge of it, but otherwise it was clear. He had a perfect view of the body inside it. 

Unsurprisingly, this James Barnes looked exactly like the fake one had, complete with circling spiral on his cheek that matched the one on Tony’s hand. But even from out here, Tony could tell _this_ was the real deal. Even locked away behind a door of thick metal, he could feel the pull towards the other man, a fascination that wouldn’t allow him to look away from Barnes’ face for even a split second, just in case he missed something of vital importance.

Tony almost leapt out of his skin when fur brushed against his leg. If Gal had been solid, he was fairly certain the automatic kick he did would have sent the daemon into the wall.

 _You won’t get him out of there by staring at it, Anthony,_ the mongoose pointed out, sitting up on its haunches once it was sure it had Tony’s attention.

“Right, right,” Tony agreed, but he still had to shake his head hard to clear his thoughts. “Right!” he said again, more firmly. “How do I turn this thing off?” It was more a rhetorical question than anything else, as he was already examining the sides of the unit, but if Maisie had any information, he wasn’t averse to its help.

Not much, anyway.

 _There’s a pattern to the buttons, but I don’t know what it is_ , said Maisie.

With his back to it, Tony rolled his eyes. _Good thing I wasn’t banking on that help_ , he thought to himself, but he thought Gal might have gleaned it anyway, because the mongoose’s whiskers briefly twitched in amusement.

“I daren’t try any old combination,” he mused, thoughtfully. “We don’t know if too many wrong attempts will destroy the unit, or just fry his brain in there. But there must be an emergency override, just in case someone who _wasn’t_ authorised and already knew the code needed to get him out in a hurry.” He idly drummed his fingers on the side of the unit.

 _You mean like this button here?_ Gal asked, pointing its nose at a spot near the base of the chamber, close to the back of it.

Tony dropped into a crouch to peer at the area. There was indeed a small red button there, with the handy hint of an open door pictogram on it, presumably on the assumption that the person trying to break in was a real idiot. Tony felt vaguely insulted, and had to stomp on the urge to just take the keypad cover off and hack his way in.

He was reaching for the button when a thought struck him. His hand froze just above it. “Wait,” he said out loud, and twisted to look over his shoulder at Maisie. “How do we know that he’s de-frosted enough to safely come out of this thing?”

 _There is a green light showing on the front_ , the creature pointed out.

“Right,” said Tony, doubtfully. “And you’d tell me if it wasn’t safe to bring him out?”

 _Of course!_ It sounded offended now. _He’s my human, you know. I wouldn’t let you hurt him._

Thinking of just how it could stop him caused a shiver to go down Tony’s spine. He did _not_ want to see that gaze aimed at him again, thank you very much. Although… that brought up another thought.

“It’s a shame I don’t still have my watch,” he said. “Then JARVIS could have given me all his vitals.” He cast a sideways glance at Gal. “Don’t suppose you know what they did with it, do you?” he asked.

The mongoose shook its head, regretfully. _I saw them rip it off you and toss it aside before they brought you in here, but I’m afraid I don’t know what they did with it after that_ , it told him.

Tony sighed. Well, it had been a long shot anyway. He’d just have to hope that Maisie knew what it was talking about, and that he wasn’t about to kill his Match.

He took a deep, steadying breath and pushed the button.

For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen. Tony was just about to slump in despair – or turn to ripping the control panel off – when Gal tilted its head. _I can hear hissing_ , it said.

“Hissing? What, like _gas_?” Tony asked, alarmed. “Have they noticed I’ve woken up and are trying to gas this room to knock me out again?”

Gal shook its head. _No_ , it said. _Not out there. From the unit here. It’s very faint._

“Oh!” Tony felt like smacking himself on the forehead, but that was way too cliché a move. “It’s trying to release the nitrogen that kept him frozen,” he said. “It’s faint because there’s almost nothing of it left.” He straightened up from his crouch and stepped back to eye the cryo unit door consideringly. The green light that Maisie had pointed out was blinking steadily, and various lights underneath it were gradually turning from red to green. A little temperature gauge that Tony hadn’t noticed before was creeping up into a yellow zone.

In less time than Tony had expected – he’d thought he’d have to wait at least a couple of hours – all the lights were flashing a steady, strong green, and the door of the cryostasis chamber popped open with a tiny _click_.

Tony carefully pulled it open a bit further, but Barnes didn’t immediately come tumbling out as he’d half thought he might. Instead, he remained upright, eyes closed and face placid. He looked incredibly peaceful. So peaceful, in fact, that Tony began to worry that Barnes was dead after all, and that Maisie just hadn’t realised because of something in the cryostasis.

Then Barnes abruptly inhaled. Not a deep one like in every single movie and TV show ever aired, but a gentle one, a long, slow draw of air through his nose. His eyelashes fluttered several times.

“Hey, that’s it. Nice and steady,” Tony said, in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Having Barnes pop out of the unit swinging because he was disorientated was something he wanted to avoid.

Barnes exhaled a groan as his eyelids spasmed again before finally cracking open. His gaze, what Tony could make out of it, was glassy and unfocused.

“Hi there!” said Tony, brightly. “No rush, take your time. Glad to see you’re awake. My name’s Tony. No doctors here, I’m afraid, so just… take your time.”

The other man’s eyes closed again while he apparently got used to using his lungs again. He eventually opened them once more to squint at Tony. “Mmfph?” he tried to say.

“Oh.” Tony winced. “Right, you’d probably prefer a drink right about now, huh? Um, _slight_ problem with that, I’m afraid…”

Barnes sighed and closed his eyes again.

* * *

It took three hours before Barnes was finally able to stay awake for any appreciable length of time. Tony had spent a good amount of that time searching the little room for anything that could possibly pass as a drinkable liquid for him, but eventually had to admit defeat.

“Not seen you before,” Barnes’ voice croaked out. It was dry and hoarse, and very nearly incomprehensible. “You m’new handler?”

“No, no, nonono, nooo,” Tony said, hastily, shaking his head. “I have no idea what sort of _procedure_ you have for this type of thing, but I’m definitely _not_ a handler. Of anything. Not even myself!”

Barnes blinked at him. Tony couldn’t tell whether that meant Barnes was having trouble keeping up with his rambling or that he was falling asleep again. He stepped closer to the cryo unit that Barnes was still propped up in. “My name’s Tony Stark,” he introduced himself. “You think you can come out of there now? See if we can’t get you at least a _tad_ more comfy whilst I explain things? I mean, this obviously isn’t the Ritz, but beggars can’t be choosers at the moment…”

 _Anthony, you’re confusing him_ , Gal interjected, dryly. _You should let him out, first._

Barnes’ gaze snapped downwards, focusing with breath-taking speed. Tony gulped. Barnes could see the daemons too! That was… completely unexpected. And also _thrilling_. To his knowledge, he’d never met anybody before that was like him, that had been able to see and hear the daemons. To be able to share this with someone, to have someone _not_ look at him as if he were crazy…

 _Well, you **are** Matched_, Gal pointed out, and Barnes’ gaze swung up towards Tony again.

Tony gave him a weak smile. “That’s Gal. I’ll explain them, too,” he promised.

“Maisie,” Barnes croaked, and it took a moment for Tony to realise that Barnes hadn’t been addressing that to _him_ , but actually calling his own daemon.

 _Bucky! I’m here!_ Maisie trilled, bounding over to paw enthusiastically at his legs. _You’ve been asleep for a long time, but we’re safe right now!_ It stretched up against him, rubbing its head against the highest part of him it could reach. Tony had to admit, it could reach pretty far. Maisie might not be very big height wise, but it was _long_ , and its head reached the middle of Barnes’ chest.

“Maisie,” Barnes repeated, and began sliding out of the cryo chamber.

“Whoops!” Tony lunged forward and caught him, but Barnes was even more solid than he looked – which was solid enough – and their combined weight along with Tony’s awkward position ended up pulling both of them to the floor. Maisie gave an indignant squawk as it barely managed to get out from under them. “Well,” said Tony, awkwardly, as Barnes stared suspiciously at him. “At least you’re out of that chamber now?”

 _Bucky_ , crooned Maisie, approaching again. It rubbed its head against Barnes’, and he awkwardly tried to bump his head against it in return. He was stiff, his muscles not warm enough yet to move smoothly and his joints locked from where he’d been motionless in the container.

Tony attempted to slide out from under Barnes but found it impossible to do so with Barnes’ full weight on top of him. He wriggled, causing the other man to look down at him. “Would you mind awfully getting off of me?” Tony asked, politely. “It’s just… you’re rather heavy.”

Barnes grunted something that might have been an apology and shifted a bare inch to the left. It was clear that he wouldn’t be moving anywhere else under his own power without a _lot_ of help.

Still, it was enough for Tony to be able to squirm his way out, and when he was free he sat up, bringing his legs up to drape his arms over his knees. He looked at Barnes, who seemed to be carefully studying him.

“Stark,” the man said, abruptly. One eye squinted half closed. “Stark?” he repeated, sounding a great deal less certain.

“Tony Stark, yes,” Tony agreed. “I told you just a few minutes ago.”

Barnes made a movement with his jaw as though chewing on the words, and Tony realised he was trying to generate saliva to enable him to talk. “Stark,” he finally said, again. “How-Howard.”

 _Oh._ Tony winced. “Howard was my father,” he told Barnes. “I guess you knew him, huh?”

 _We were… acquainted, with Howard,_ Maisie responded for him. _We…_ It abruptly looked down, its whiskers twitching in guilt. _We— **killed** him_, it finished, almost in a whisper.

For the second time that day, Tony felt himself freeze in shock.

 _What?_ Gal demanded, scrambling around to launch itself up onto Tony’s shoulder. _What do you mean, you killed Howard?_

“Winter… Sold-ier,” Barnes croaked, his voice breaking in the middle. Maisie tucked itself close against his far arm, almost as if it were hiding in shame.

“The Winter Soldier was supposed to be a ghost story,” said Tony, blankly. He absently reached up a hand to rest against Gal, who nuzzled into his neck. “He was said to control the comings and goings in Brooklyn; no crime or gangs or trade partnerships without his knowledge. But he doesn’t actually _exist_!”

 _We did not lead,_ Maisie said. _The Winter Soldier did not control Brooklyn. At least, not for himself. He was the stick that the true puppet master wielded against those who thought to cross him. And in times between… locked away and frozen._

Tony didn’t know how to respond to that. It sounded… terrible, but he didn’t quite see how that led to the not-so-mythical Winter Soldier somehow killing his father. His _parents_.

He thought, for a brief moment, that the muffled sound of voices was in his head, was perhaps Gal and Maisie both talking at him at once, but then both daemons lifted their heads and looked towards the door.

Barnes grunted in frustration as he tried to pull his limbs under himself so he could rise to his feet. “People,” he said to Tony. “Coming here.”

“Wha—oh, _shit_ ,” he hissed. “Obie? Gal, is that Obie coming back?”

 _And Rumlow_ , Gal confirmed, grimly. _We have nowhere to go, no weapons. I don’t know that we can fight them off, Anthony._

“Have I ever told you that I love your optimism?” Tony grumbled to the mongoose as he frantically scrambled towards the cryo unit. He didn’t think he’d be very successful, but hiding was the best plan he had at the moment.

 _We will fight!_ Maisie promised. It’d uncurled itself and was now facing the door, head held low and growling in the high-pitched warning of an extremely pissed off cat. Tony _really_ wanted to know what the hell kind of animal it was.

He also wanted to know just how Barnes was planning on fighting off two strong and likely armed men when he couldn’t even get to his own feet. Willing as it was, Maisie wouldn’t be much help since the other men wouldn’t even know it was there.

The door clicked open just as he tucked himself as far behind the cryo unit as he could. He could hear the heavy tread that was Obie, and another one that had to be Rumlow.

“Well, now, what do we have here?” he heard Obie ask. There was a _thud_ , and Barnes grunted in pain. Maisie’s growl ramped up a notch, and Rumlow’s fox began growling back at it. “Who let you out of your cage?” There was a pause, as presumably Obie scanned the room. “Tony, Tony, Tony,” he continued, in the cheerful sing-song tone that Tony had always hated. Mainly because Obie was usually being condescending towards him when he used it. “I know you’re in here, my boy! There’s not a whole lot of places you can hide from us.”

Tony, unfortunately, was well aware of that fact. He couldn’t do anything about it, except hope that he could remain hidden long enough for him to think of something.

“I think he needs a little encouragement,” said another voice that must have been Rumlow. It sounded similar to Barnes’, but after hearing the real deal, even one that was hoarse and almost useless, Tony would never mistake him for Barnes. “Perhaps an incentive.” There was another thud, another stifled noise of pain from Barnes.

Tony gritted his teeth. Leaving his hiding place now would _not_ help either of them!

Rumlow began saying something in Russian. Tony didn’t have a clue what he was saying, but it sounded choppy; almost more like a list of words than a single sentence. There came a sound Tony couldn’t identify, and a third, even meatier, thud than before, in concert with alarmed shouts from both Rumlow and Obie.

 _Don’t you dare look_ , Gal snarled in his ear. _Stay here. I’ll go._ It slithered its way down from Tony’s shoulder and cautiously poked its head around the corner of the cryo unit. The unmistakable sound of punches were almost covered by Obie yelling threats and encouragements in equal measure. _It’s Barnes_ , Gal said, sounding surprised.

Barnes? What had he done, tackled Rumlow to the floor? Tony rolled his eyes at the very thought.

Vicious snarls joined the melee. Tony didn’t need Gal to tell him that was Maisie taking on Rumlow’s fox.

Gal abruptly growled. Its body stiffened, and its fur rose on end so that it looked almost three times as big as it normally was. Tony didn’t think he’d need too many guesses as to who was coming his way.

“Oh, To-ny,” drawled Obie from much closer than Tony liked – or had expected. “You’ve been a very bad boy, Tony. I didn’t want to have to kill the golden goose; I had a good thing going here. But you just _had_ to go poking your nose where it didn’t belong, didn’t you? Couldn’t just go off and get married and leave everything in my hands.”

Obie’s snake slithered around the corner of the cryo unit and, with a loud snarl, Gal pounced on it. Mongoose and snake rolled back around the corner in a tangled ball of fur and scales. Tony desperately wanted to watch where they went, and to look at how Maisie and Barnes were doing, but he forced himself to stay put. Sure, Obie was almost on him now, but he was the only one here unable to defend himself at all. If Obie had grown up with Rumlow as JARVIS had said he had, then he was a lot more capable than he looked – and he already looked enough like a thug that Howard had suggested he try growing his hair out, or getting a wig.

Obie finally appeared at the corner of the cryo chamber, and Tony met his gaze with his head held high. After all, _he_ wasn’t the one kidnapping people for the purposes of fraud. “There you are,” said Obie, smiling as if they’d just happened to come across one another in Central Park. “I really didn’t want to do this, Tony, but you left me no choice.” He started to reach inside his suit jacket, where Tony could just about make out something that he was very willing to bet was a gun.

However, he didn’t get the chance to see if he was correct. Somehow, even when he’d been wondering what happened to daemons when their human died, he’d never thought to ask Gal what happened when a daemon died _first_.

There was a loud snarl and then a triumphant chittering cry from Gal, and Obie abruptly stiffened, his eyes going wide. The hand that had been reaching into his jacket abruptly changed course, moving to clutch at the left side of his neck where Tony could just about make out one end of the diamond shape that was Obie’s Mark.

The Mark was… _glittering_ , Tony realised, shimmering into gold. The sparkliness of it meant that it took another moment before he realised that the Mark was actually _evaporating from Obie’s skin_.

Obie’s face was becoming more drawn, and his mouth gaped open as he tried to gasp for breath. It wasn’t working. He slowly dropped to his knees, his eyes now pleading with Tony, begging him to do something, to _save Obie_.

Tony stood still and did nothing as, even more slowly, Obie collapsed forward onto the floor. The man was still struggling to draw in air, but it was fairly obvious that he wouldn’t be struggling for much longer.

He carefully stepped over Obie’s body, edging out from the shelter of the cryo chamber. Gal was doing some kind of weird, stomping dance over the remains of Obie’s snake. Maisie was a blur of sound and fury as it snapped and clawed at Rumlow’s fox. It had already done some quite hefty damage with the long, sharp front claws it had. The fox was bleeding quite heavily, but it still had enough energy to snap at Maisie every time it danced near to it.

Rumlow himself had disappeared, along with Barnes, although from the sound of it, their fight had just rolled out of this little room and into an area with more space. The wall was occasionally shaking, showing that one or the other had crashed into it. Rumlow kept trying to shout something in Russian, but whatever he was trying to say to Barnes, the other man wasn’t letting him finish it, and he had to keep starting over.

Gal gave a last stomp to the now non-existent ashes and scampered over to Tony. “Are you going to help Maisie?” he asked it.

 _No need. Maisie has it under control_ , said Gal, blithely. And sure enough, the fox was now scrambling to get to the door, whipping itself around in circles to try and keep Maisie at bay while it fled.

There was a thud and a pained, breathless gasp from outside of the room, and the fox abruptly froze. Maisie almost ran right into it but managed to slide to a halt at the last moment. The fox whined… and then burst into dust.

 _Good riddance to bad rubbish_ , Maisie said, and scraped its claws over where the fox had been standing, almost as if it was trying to cover over a kill. Or a mess.

“Barnes!” Tony exclaimed, and dashed for the doorway.

Barnes was slumped against the far wall, his legs extended out and his feet resting on Rumlow’s lifeless body. He looked exhausted but surprisingly intact for someone who’d been at a clear disadvantage at the beginning of the fight.

“Stark,” the man greeted him. “Th’other one?”

“Dead,” Tony told him. “Had a heart attack, I think, after Gal killed his daemon.”

Maisie brushed past Tony’s legs and began to sniff at Barnes. “M’okay,” he told it. “Serum’s still healing me.”

To Tony’s surprise, he reached out a hand and began to _stroke_ the daemon. But then… _Oh_. He glanced down at Gal, who was looking back up at him. Gal had hidden the daemons from him when he was a boy, so Tony had been operating under the assumption that Barnes saw them as mostly incorporeal figures too. But unless Maisie had done the same for him, then of course he wouldn’t. “Can you reverse it?” he asked the mongoose, wondering what he’d do if it said no.

Gal bared its teeth at him. _Of course I can_ , it said, puffing up in indignation that he dared to slander its abilities. It closed its eyes in concentration. Ever so slowly, colour began to drip back into it. Barnes and Maisie watched in bemusement, not privy to what Gal was doing.

 _Well_ , said Gal, when it finally opened its eyes. _Hello again, Anthony._

Tony couldn’t help but grin down at the mongoose. “Hi, Gal,” he said, and reached down to fully pet the daemon for the first time in decades. It arched its back under the touch of his hand.

“No idea what’s goin’ on, but we need to get out of here,” Barnes interjected. His voice sounded better, Tony realised. He further realised, upon looking back at Barnes, that he’d apparently scavenged the water out of a nearby vase of flowers. He couldn’t help the disgusted face he pulled. Barnes laughed at him, and began hauling himself upright by using the wall – and Maisie – as a support.

“Okay, first off, we have _got_ to get you some clothes that won’t risk you getting arrested for public indecency,” Tony began, only now really taking in that Barnes was essentially dressed in rags. Clothes obviously didn’t take too well to the cryostasis process. “Second, we will get you some _clean_ water, because god only knows what was in that plant pot. Third, you are going to tell me more about this whole Winter Soldier and killing my parents thing, which, I will tell you now, I am _nowhere near_ over, because it hasn’t had time to really sink in yet. These things have to _marinate_ , you know, before you really get the _sense_ of them— Where was I?” he asked, as he realised he’d lost his train of thought.

Gal and Maisie both snorted, and Tony picked up the thread of it again. “Oh yeah, and _fourth_ ,” he said, pointing a finger at Barnes for emphasis, “you are going to tell me just what the hell kind of creature your daemon is!”

Barnes turned his head to look down at Maisie. “Feisty one, ain’t he?” he said to it. And he made for the door to the accompanying sound of Tony spluttering.


End file.
